


Facing the Fall Together

by partialconstellations



Series: to be alive [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Hair-pulling, I mention both Margaery and Ramsay about once, Lesbian Sansa Stark, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Power Dynamics, Power Play, R Plus L Equals J, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Vaginal Fingering, also there is some background Jon/Tormund because I'm predictable, it's not explicit and barely there but it is there so better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 01:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16863781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialconstellations/pseuds/partialconstellations
Summary: Sansa would have never said she was attracted to power, but that was a lie. None since Margaery had made her heart jump in her chest quite as much as the Dragon Queen did when she entered Winterfell’s courtyard.





	Facing the Fall Together

**Author's Note:**

> Ramsay is mentioned by name once, and there is a very short reference to something he might have done, but it's consciously non-explicit, because that's not what I'm here for, and Daenerys backs off immediately when Sansa asks her to. I've tried to be respectful without showing Sansa and Daenerys negotiating first, because I write them as an established couple and thus assume that they have talked about this before and set boundaries accordingly. If I need to warn better, or there are any other tags I should add to make this more clear, please tell me to do so.

Sansa had expected to hate Daenerys Targaryen the moment she dared to set foot in Winterfell. She had good reasons to. She had refused to respect the North’s independence, had refused to respect _Jon_ , had almost got him killed in a reckless attempt to make her trust him, had managed to make him bend the knee. When that news had got out, it took every single trick and machination she had learned at Cersei and Littlefinger’s feet _and then some_ to keep the Northern lords from calling for his head immediately. Or rather, to back down from calling for his head. She could still feel Arya’s stare boring into her neck when she thought about that particular afternoon.

He was behaving foolishly, irrationally, two things she had never associated with her half-brother. She didn’t know how this woman had managed that. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was in love with her. Then she met her. The Dragon Queen was nothing less than magnificent.

The winter sun was illuminating her silver hair _just so_ and even though she might have been the only person in the known world to make Jon look tall, she walked with long strides, carried herself with confidence, head held high. Sansa would have never said she was attracted to power, but that was a lie. Margaery’s confidence was what had drawn her to her, at first, but she had known, _knew_ , many confident women. None since Margaery had made her heart jump in her chest quite as much as the Dragon Queen did when she entered Winterfell’s courtyard.

From there, it didn’t take long for tolerating the other at dinner to turn into grudging respect during war council sessions, to turn into genuine respect during meetings in her solar, to turn into genuine affection in private talks in her chambers.

And now, here they were.

Daenerys’ naked breasts pressed into Sansa’s back as she pressed a kiss, almost chaste, to her shoulder blade. Sansa turned towards her lover, still hugging her pillow to her chest. “Good morning,” she said sleepily.

“Good morning, she says,” Daenerys repeated, incredulous. She didn’t look sleepy at all, which seemed rather unfair, considering what they had got up to the night before. Only the state of her hair, still half-braided, messy otherwise, seemed to tell that she hadn’t spent the night alone and asleep, as she should have.

“Isn’t it?” Sansa smirked and looked toward the window. It was frosted over, but there were a couple of snowflakes visible. The snow on the windowsill covered the lower half of the window. All things considered, she liked sharing a warm bed, sharing body heat with an incredible woman.

“I’m afraid to leave this bed for fear of turning into an ice cube, but otherwise…”

“Then don’t leave it,” Sansa replied.

Daenerys let out a laugh. “Oh yes, and what _would_ the servants say, finding the evil conquering Targaryen Queen in the Lady of Winterfell’s bed?”

Sansa smiled at her. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse. As a collective, servants have a way of knowing everything that’s going on inside a castle and between whom. Makes them good spies.”

“Someone _is_ coming by to stoke the hearth soon, right?” Daenerys added worriedly.

Sansa looked at her. “I asked not to be disturbed for the indefinite future. We don’t exactly have to provoke someone walking in on us.”

“So what do we do?”

“Stoke the hearth ourselves.”

Daenerys’ nose crinkled in disapproval. “That involves leaving the bed and facing the cold.”

“We could try warming up another way,” Sansa suggested with a sly grin.

“What did you have in mind?” Daenerys replied, now grinning herself.

Sansa got to her knees, leaving the pillow she had lain on, and climbed half over Daenerys. “I could think of a thing…” she cupped one breast with one hand, “… or two,” and pressed a kiss to the other. She looked up at Daenerys, who had settled back on her elbows and watched her with hooded eyes. “Do go on,” she hummed in approval.

Sansa smirked at her, twisting a nipple between her fingers, the flesh immediately turning a dark shade of pink. Daenerys gasped, her body bucking under Sansa. “Like that?” she asked with a smirk.

Daenerys closed her eyes before nodding. “Yes.” She opened them again, her already dark purple eyes seeming even darker now. There was lust in them, a heat that seemed mismatched with her otherwise light colouring.

“Yes, who?” Sansa asked innocently, her hand now only lightly touching Daenerys’ breast, resting for the moment.

“Yes, my lady.” Daenerys’ voice started to sound differently, less commanding. It always took a while for her to adjust to their dynamic in bed, despite being a more than enthusiastic participant.

“Lie back,” Sansa ordered.

Daenerys obeyed immediately, shuffling a bit beneath her so her head didn’t hit the headboard.

“Very well done,” Sansa praised. She started caressing Daenerys’ breast, thumbing her nipple again.

Daenerys _purred_. She was always so responsive, her skin pinking at the lightest of touches, goose bumps where Sansa’s fingers had just left her skin.

Now, her back was arched, chasing the sensation of being touched. Sansa smirked at her lover. She almost made it too easy.

Sansa didn't like to admit this to herself, but she _liked_ being in control. After… _him_ , it had felt necessary to ensure her safety, but she found that she enjoyed it more than she would have expected.

With Margaery, she had liked being manhandled, as it were, but that almost seemed like a different life, a different person altogether, like much seemed to separate into a before and after Ramsay.

She wondered whether she would react to Daenerys the same way she had to Margaery’s administrations but Daenerys had seemed happy enough to let go of control in bed.

She leaned down, close enough to Daenerys’ face that she could feel her breath on hers. “Tell me what you want. I might give it to you, if you're good.”

A heavy sigh. Sansa waited, fingers curled into her fist, so as not to give in and touch her.

“Hold me down.”

“What is the magic word?”

“Hold me down –  _please_ , my lady.”

“Such a good girl,” Sansa praised, while shifting so that she was kneeling above Daenerys, one leg placed on each side of her lover, pressing her knees into Daenerys’s sides. Sansa gasped at the cold air hitting her back, and leaned back to rearrange some of her bed’s furs across her shoulders.

Daenerys’ entire body stiffened, her gaze growing even hotter, more lustful. Of course, Sansa noticed immediately. “Do you like that? Seeing me naked, covered in nothing but a few furs?”

She got an affirmative nod, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath, in response. Sansa slowly rolled her hips, grinding her cunt against Daenerys’ belly. Another gasp, louder this time. She leaned down, crawling up Daenerys’ body, her full breasts dragging against her lover’s skin, until her mouth was mere inches from Daenerys’, just out of reach of a kiss. She grabbed her hands, and pulled them up, up above her head. “Do you think I could make you come just like this?” She rolled her hips again.

“Gods,” Daenerys gasped. A flush darkened the skin on her cheeks and, curiously, around her breasts.

“That’s not an answer,” Sansa replied, tightening her grip on Daenerys’ hands. It was such a little thing, but just the illusion of restraining her worked miracles for them both. She could feel herself getting wet and she was sure that if she touched Daenerys’ cunt, she’d already be sopping, too.

“Please touch me.” It didn’t sound like she was begging – not yet, at least. Sansa smirked to herself, and, not letting go entirely, just sliding one hand down Daenerys’ wrist to reach better, placed a kiss against Daenerys’ breast, then slowly started to lick, in long, broad strokes.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Sansa reminder her, rolling her hips again. Daenerys bucked under her in response.

“Yes, you could.” The words sounded laboured, forced out between low gasps, as Sansa started her administrations to Daenerys’s breasts again. She took one nipple between her teeth, carefully, very carefully, and licked. Daenerys moaned, her back arching, presenting her beautiful breasts towards Sansa, aching for more.

“Do you want me to?” Sansa asked. She caressed Daenerys’ pulse with the thumb of the hand still holding her wrist.

Daenerys opened her eyes to look straight into Sansa’s own. “No, my lady.”

“What do you want me to do?” Sansa asked, trying to sound nonchalant, when in truth, her body started yearning for more, too. She could feel herself getting wetter.

“I want you to touch me and fuck me.”

“I _am_ touching you,” Sansa replied, tightening her grip on the hand she was still holding before moving it down towards Daenerys’ other wrist, too. “I’m going to have to ask you to show me how much you want me to fuck you, I’m afraid.” She moved again, pressing her body against Daenerys’ as she did so. That her breasts ended up perfectly aligned with Daenerys’ mouth really was just a happy coincidence.

Daenerys had to strain a little to get her mouth around Sansa’s nipple, but as she did, she immediately went to work, flicking her tongue against it. Sansa shuddered. Gods, it felt so good to be touched by another human being again and not just having to use her own fingers.

“Good,” Sansa praised. “You do deserve a reward, after all. _After_ you make me climax, of course.” She was sad to let go of Daenerys’ wrists, but didn’t have time to question her choice, because Daenerys moved immediately. Her arms wrapped around her, her head bowed before her and wasn’t _that_ a sight. All that silver. Daenerys’ mouth moved against her neck, licking, sucking. “Lower. I need to be able to cover this,” Sansa warned her, while she was still able to form coherent thoughts.

Daenerys obliged, grazing the skin with her bare teeth as she moved down. She started sucking against Sansa’s collarbone, drawing the skin into her mouth, making sure to leave a lover’s mark. Sansa gasped. Her centre felt hot, so hot, and she subconsciously started rubbing her thighs against each other to relieve some pressure. Daenerys, however, noticed and grinned, before playfully nipping at her skin again. “Impatient, aren’t we.” Her hand found its way between her legs, carefully pressing her fingers between her wet folds. She _dragged_ them between them, neither entering her nor touching her clit but regardless, the littlest bit of relief was so great Sansa moaned regardless.

Daenerys looked up at her, a smug grin on her face. “You like that, don’t you? Pretending like you’re the one in charge but melting at the merest touch yourself.” Her hand stilled. Sansa couldn’t help chasing after the sensation, rubbing herself against Daenerys’ hand. “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my hand.”

In response, Sansa grabbed Daenerys’ hair at the root and pulled. It wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t playful, she pulled _hard_. Daenerys cursed incoherently, her head thrown back, pupils blown wide. Her nipples were hard against the cold air.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sansa said through bared teeth but in the same breath couldn’t help but do exactly what Daenerys had told her to, fucking herself against her hand as best she could. She reached between them, searching for Daenerys’ cunt herself. The angle was awkward, with both their hands now trapped between their bodies, Sansa having shifted to being in Daenerys’ lap when she had sat up. Daenerys was so wet she slipped into her without resistance. She bucked against her, and Sansa shifted the angle slightly to press the palm of her hand against Daenerys’ mound as she started fucking her with her fingers.

Daenerys’ hand came up again, leaving a wet trail of Sansa’s own juices against Sansa’s stomach, breasts, as she cupped her face with it. She pressed her thumb against Sansa’s bottom lip, who eagerly let her in, sucking. A triumphant smile was on Daenerys’ lips but before Sansa could even begin to form a thought, her lover closed the distance between their mouths, her thumb still in the corner of her mouth, resting on her bottom lip, as she crushed their lips together, taking Sansa’s lip between her teeth and pulling carefully, trying not to break the skin. Her other hand wandered down Sansa’s back, almost absentmindedly fondling her bottom.

Sansa’s hand was still between them, trying to get purchase but it was easier said than done. Their bodies were so close now, pressing against each other, that she had difficulty moving it. She forced herself back, just a bit, so that she could move her hand a little more. In doing so, her own cunt rubbed against Daenerys’ leg and she moaned into her mouth. Their kiss got sloppy, messy – somewhere in between Daenerys had moved her other hand – but neither wanted to break contact completely.

Involuntarily, Daenerys pressed her mound back against Sansa’s hand and Sansa’s thumb finally found her clit, starting to rub the bundle of nerves, while still trying to establish a rhythm with the fingers inside her lover. She always was careful touching that bundle of nerves first, as she herself found it too sensitive, but Daenerys loved the pressure. And she showed her appreciation by moaning into her mouth, chasing as much skin to skin contact as humanly possible by pressing up against her.

A jolt went through her as she felt Daenerys’ nails dig into the small of her back. “Please don’t,” Sansa whispered, and the pressure was gone immediately, replaced by a consciously flat hand against her back, thumb stroking lightly. “I’m sorry,” Daenerys murmured softly against her ear.

“I’m fine,” she assured her, with a somewhat weak smile, and, as if wanting to prove her words, twisted her fingers inside of Daenerys, pressing her thumb against her clit in a way she would never let someone do on herself. The other hand, still at the back of Daenerys’ head, twisted in her silver hair, only giving a gentle tug this time. It was enough.

Daenerys came messily, her head sinking against Sansa’s shoulder, biting it a bit harder than she was necessarily comfortable with, but gods, seeing this powerful woman come undone through her actions was _doing_ did things to her. She could feel her cunt responding and for a split second she thought she would come herself, just seeing Daenerys like this. She took a breath to steady herself. She’d never hear the end of it if she did come just then.

Once Daenerys had ridden out her own climax, she gripped both of Sansa’s upper thighs, spread out over hers, and moved Sansa off her, lying her back, her face disappearing between her thighs. She pressed just hard enough to leave small fingerprints. Sansa intended to watch, but as soon as she got up on her elbows, she felt Daenerys’ tongue against her clit, just barely, before she moved further down towards her cunt. Her elbows gave out immediately and she settled for a hand in Daenerys’ hair, twisting it around her fingers, just as a reminder her that she was still, technically, the one in charge. She didn’t know whether she believed herself.

And then, there was little thought, just the feeling of Daenerys’ tongue probing her, moving inside her, joined by some fingers inside at some point, another one carefully rubbing circles around her clit, never touching it directly. When Sansa came, she did so loudly, unashamed, not caring whether people would be able to hear, there wasn’t anybody living in this part of the castle anymore anyway.

Daenerys came up, Sansa’s juices running down her chin, with a smirk on her face. “The ice queen melts,” she said, smugly, and kissed her, tongue easily breaching her lips. Sansa sucked on her tongue, tasting herself. Her hand was still in Daenerys’ hair, and instead of a verbal reply she wasn’t sure she would be able to get out, she tugged lightly in reply. She could _feel_ the smirk against her lips.

“You need to work on your mental endurance. You told me I’d only get to come after your own climax,” Daenerys chided Sansa after she’d caught her breath.

“I’ll have to try next time. I’m a slow learner,” Sansa replied quietly, smiling, curling up against Daenerys, both still with their heads at the foot of her bed. Maybe it was the cold morning air, but Daenerys seemed to give off more body heat than other people. It was nice, for the moment.

The wars, both against the dead and Cersei, seemed distant for just a moment the concerns of others, but even now, blissful after climaxing with another woman between her legs, Sansa dreaded what would happen after, _if_ they both survived them. Daenerys wasn’t fit to rule and she herself wasn’t willing to give up the North’s, her, independence either, after everything she had been through, survived and worked towards. If only they could stay like this forever instead, the last embers in the hearth growing cold, only this side of freezing because of Winterfell’s heated walls, frost blinding the windows, both entangled in her furs and each other.

 

Jon lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, Tormund’s arm thrown over him. “ _Why_ did we have to move out of my own chambers again?”

“Because Sansa, the dragon woman and the little drunk man thought it would be inappropriate for you to stay in a little cubby behind the kitchens when we have so many high-ranking guests,” Tormund replied sleepily.

“You could almost think they _enjoy_ being overheard.” Jon said, his eyes closed, trying to will the mental image of his sister and Daenerys Targaryen away. It wasn’t successful after the ungodly moans that he heard from his sister’s chambers.

“I really don’t mind. Makes me think about soft bodies, pressed against each other. Just imagine them, curled up in each other, silver and red, bringing each other to climax.” He grinded his hardening cock into Jon’s side. “In a way, they’re both kissed by fire. You’d think you of all people would like that.”

Jon couldn’t really muster the same enthusiasm. “You’re disgusting. That’s my _sister_ you’re talking about,” he replied hotly.

“Technically, your cousin. … And your aunt.” Tormund grinned, obviously enjoying teasing Jon just as much as what they were overhearing.

Jon groaned unhappily, batting Tormund’s creeping hand away. “If you want me to do something about that hard cock of yours _once they’re done_ , you’re going to have to shut up, _at once_.”

Ghost whined, scratching at the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> Title comes from the song [Ascension](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kslaeOUk7N4) by Miracle of Sound ft. Karliene, which appears to be all I listen to at the moment.
> 
> This is taken from a longer fic I've been working on, but I'm a slow writer at best, so whether that will ever see the light of day, we'll see. So yeah, have this instead, because I've worked way too long on this and can't look at it anymore. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated.


End file.
